


Heaven Can Wait

by eternaleponine



Category: Magic University - Cecilia Tan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ash has had a hopeless crush on Alex for a long time.  Rory has had an impossible crush on a friend for even longer.  They help each other realize that sometimes you need to put aside what you think might be perfect and take a chance to find something that is both possible and good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been published in the anthology Spellbinding: Tales of the Magic University, edited by Cecilia Tan. It is posted here with permission of the editor. The world and Ash belong to Cecilia Tan. Rory is mine. *g*

What’s that joke about old musicians? They don’t die, they just decompose? The same seems to be true with old (or not so old, but graduated, anyway) Cam 3 West residents. In particular, Alex Kimble. It had apparently taken him something like six years to finish his undergrad, with several months spent in a coma and two semesters disappeared in Europe. So maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds.

But anyway, it’s like hanging out in the common room had become so much of a habit that he didn’t stop even when he didn’t live here anymore. More often than not I’d come home from class and there he’d be, playing video games with Ash.

Watching them, I wonder if maybe it isn’t so much Alex’s habit that keeps him coming back, but Ash’s. Like he’s afraid that if Alex stops coming to the common room, he’ll just disappear completely, and Ash can’t stand the thought.

Seeing how he looks at him, I wonder if it’s obvious to anyone with eyes how Ash feels, or if it’s just me. Because I know, like I sometimes know things, that Ash is completely in love with, or at least crushed out on, Alex, and I know, like I sometimes know things, that it’s a lost cause. Ash is bisexual, and who knows, maybe Alex is too, but he doesn’t see Ash that way. Not in the slightest, and I don’t think that’s going to change.

Which makes my heart ache for Ash because I know, not like I sometimes know things but like I _know_ , how that feels. And it sucks.

But there’s nothing I can do. I mean, when the going gets tough, Rory writes songs. (And refers to himself in the third person, apparently.) One of my favorite songs I’ve written is my wishful thinking brokenhearted love song to the person I can never have. So yeah.

That’s my song for me, though. It gave me a kind of catharsis, or at least an emotional band-aid, at the end of the summer, knowing it would be months before I got to see him again... and then even when I did he’d still be straight and unavailable and just generally not mine.

But that was my broken heart I was trying to heal, and I don’t know if it works for other people. I can look at them, listen to them, and words and phrases stick and start to form into things but for the first time I wonder what good it does.

I watch Ash watch Alex leave and wish I was more like my brother, the joker who can jolly anyone out of a bad mood. Not that Ash is in a bad mood, exactly. More wistful, longing... But he would know how to take care of that, too, and wouldn’t hesitate to do it.

Ash sees me watching and sighs, smiling crookedly. “It’s obvious, huh?”

I shrug. What’s obvious to me isn’t always obvious to everyone else. It’s one of my talents; I can read relationships between people, get flashes of insight as to who they are to each other and sometimes a feeling of how they got there. It’s how I can write songs about love and whatever when I’ve never had a real relationship of my own.

But I don’t say any of that. What I say is, “You should see me with David. I’m pretty sure he’s the only person in the world who hasn’t realized I’ve had a crush on him since I was twelve.”

"Who's David?" he asks, getting up and getting a beer. I don't know if he's legal to drink, and I know I'm not, but I don't say no when he offers me one too.

"A friend. My dad's best friend's son, so I've known him my entire life. There's a group of us that all grew up together, although mostly we saw each other during the summer. We're pretty much like brothers. Except, y'know, for the part where having a crush on your brother is totally ew." I shudder, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that'd be pretty screwed up," he agrees. "You've never said anything to him?"

I shake my head. "How could I? It's not fair to him to have to deal with it, and I don't want to mess things up. Like, I don't want to lose a friend over a stupid crush."

"Couldn't keeping it a secret screw things up too? You said that everyone knows already." He's watching me so closely it's a little unnerving.

"They don't know for sure. Most of them, anyway. It's not like I bring it up as a topic of conversation." I sigh, taking a swallow of beer and grimacing. I don't actually like beer. But right now I like the way it's loosening knots in my muscles... including my tongue, I guess. "People see it. But he doesn't, and he's straight and last I knew had a girlfriend and so it's stupid and pointless but there it is. So. Yeah. Maybe it's just obvious to me because I know what it's like."

"Maybe."

Silence stretches between us and I wonder what he's thinking but I don't ask because really when it comes down to it it's none of my business and he'll tell me if he wants me to know. I'm thinking about how my brother would probably flirt with him, because even though he's not in Esoterics, he still thinks sex is a pretty good answer for a lot of things. I've never done it, so I can't really say one way or the other.

"So how do you deal with it? I mean, if you spend so much time together during the summers, or you did? That's got to suck."

"Sometimes. I mean, it's been since I was twelve, so I've kind of learned to deal with it. It's just always been there, like... like hunger or thirst or needing to play music. It's just another thing that's part of me."

"Except that if you're hungry you can eat and if you're thirsty you can get some water and if you need to play music your guitar is never far away."

The words sting, and I know that's not his intention at all but sometimes the truth hurts. "I'm just saying. I just deal with it because I have to, and I channel it into music and I..." I frown, drink more. "They're non-magical, you know. My dad's a prodigy, so all his friends from before he came to Veritas know nothing about any of it. Including David's dad. My whole life is a secret around them, so this is just one more thing."

"Huh." I can see him turning that over in his head. "Still."

"It is what it is."

"And that's okay? What it is is crappy, so why accept it? You need to find someone else," Ash says. "I mean, that's a long time to want someone you can't have."

"Pot and kettle," I say, and it comes out harsher than I mean it to. "Sorry."

"It's okay." He looks at me, and I look back at him, and again I wonder what he's thinking, but at the same time I think I can guess and I'm not sure I really want to know.

"He's not Mr. Right," Ash says softly, but he doesn't move any closer, and I'm grateful for that because I don't know what I would do. "You know that."

I nod, feeling like a deer in headlights.

He watches me for another minute, then seems to deflate a little. "You'll find someone." He gets up and goes to his room, and I feel like I got something wrong somehow.

I can't help wondering if he feels the same.

But what? What did I do? What did he want me to do?

Maybe he was looking for comfort, like physical comfort, because it makes it hurt less to not be alone. But how not alone did he want to be or am I totally misinterpreting and why wouldn't he just find someone else for that?

I've probably got it all wrong anyway. Why would he want that, from me of all people? I'm not... I'm not no one, but I'm not exactly known for being... um... what would the word be? I don't even know, but I'm pretty sure it's common knowledge that I'm pretty much as much of a virgin as anyone could ever have the misfortune of being.

As in I've never done anything. With anyone. Ever. Including kissing.

Because I'm holding out for true love? I'm not saving myself for magical purposes because I don't think I'd ever be able to do that. Not unless it was with someone who I really cared about, even if it wasn't exactly love, at least someone I liked and trusted but for magic sex the big thing is that it's not always with someone you like and trust and all of that and...

I guess the idea of doing it when it's not about loving someone, even if you're not in love with them, kind of leaves me with an icky feeling in the pit of my stomach. But other people do it and it doesn't bother them, so am I weird, or am I just me?

I mean, would it be so horrible to be with someone just for the comfort of being with someone? Because they want it? I mean, obviously I would need to want it too, but...

I don't know. I can't make myself make sense to myself, and maybe I'm overthinking everything and maybe I'm keeping myself from living life because I want perfect and won't even give good a chance.

I go and find my guitar. There has to be a song in that somewhere.

*

"I've been thinking about the other night."

I look up, startled, from the scrap of paper I've been alternately frowning at and scribbling on in a scrawl that everyone else says is illegible. I can read it just fine. Well, usually. I blame being left-handed. "Oh?" I've been thinking about the other night, too, and I pull my guitar in tighter against my chest.

All right, obsessing is probably more accurate. Hence the words on the page in front of me, written down and scratched out over and over again.

"About Mr. Right and not being able to have what you want and all of that."

I can feel myself blushing. "Yeah. I guess I have too."

"And?" Ash prompts.

Why he gets to bring it up and then I have to talk about it, I don't know. Doesn't seem quite fair, but then Mom always said life isn't fair. "I don't know. I guess I just want... perfect. Like, I see people who've found The One, and I want that? Except is there just one for everyone? Or, okay, more than one but is it set? Fated?"

"And how do you know if you've found him – or her – unless you actually give someone a chance?" Ash asks.

"I, uh, haven't worked that out yet," I admit.

"Exactly," Ash says. "Just because you can't have what you've decided might be perfect doesn't mean you shouldn't go for something else that might be good. Maybe you'll figure out that it's better."

"Uh... okay." I'm not sure where this is going, except maybe I do and I'm just not sure what to do about the fact that he's taking my guitar from my lap and setting it aside. But I'm still not quite getting it, oblivious or naïve, until Ash's lips are on mine, soft but insistent.

Truth or dare, sink or swim, something or something else, I don't even know. I have a split second to decide – pull away or go with it. I wrap my arms around him.

"Does that qualify as good?" Ash asks when he pulls away.

"Um." I have no idea what to say. Words have completely abandoned me.

"That's hardly a rousing endorsement," Ash says, but he's grinning. "Maybe I should try again?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just kisses me again.

Time goes a little wonky, and I'm not sure if seconds or hours pass but I assume it must be somewhere in the middle.

We break apart again, and this time I have words, although they kind out kind of in a breathless rush. "This might not be the best place. Um. Being public and all. Public-ish, anyway."

"Would – Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asks. No pressure. Just a question, but it's pretty obvious what he wants the answer to be. I can see it in his eyes, that he wants this, me, and I don't know why, or if I should.

It's good, but...

But nothing. It's good, and that can be enough if I let it. "Yeah. My roommate's not, y'know, here."

"Okay." He stands up and grabs my hand, stopping me from reaching for my guitar, like he knows I was going to. I guess I'm just predictable that way. It's a security blanket acceptable for adults, but a security blanket nonetheless. "Leave it for now."

I leave it. I let myself be led to my own room, off-kilter but maybe not in a bad way. I lock the door behind us, and start to say, "I don't—" but I don't get a chance to finish because he pulls me into his arms and kisses me a third time, rougher and deeper than before, more demanding, maybe because we're not in danger of being walked in on anymore.

Somehow we end up on the bed, and when I say somehow I mean it because I really, honestly don't know. One minute I'm vertical, the next I'm not, and he's half on top of me, our limbs and tongues tangled. I'm dizzy with it, drunker than I've ever been from alcohol on the way it feels when Ash's hands worm their way under my shirt, and when our hips press together, giving friction that threatens to bring the whole thing to an embarrassingly abrupt conclusion.

I shift away, just a little, not because I want to stop but because I don't want it all to happen too fast. "I've never done this before," I blurt out, in case he somehow doesn't know. He deserves some kind of warning. I might not be good at any of this, after all.

"I'll be gentle," he teases, and he is, as he sits up and draws me up with him, pulling off my shirt and tracing his hands down my chest. I fall back against the pillows, and he takes it as an invitation to chase his fingers with his lips and tongue. He pauses when he gets to my navel, his fingers lingering on my ribs before making their way down to my hips.

"Can I?" Ash asks, the tip of one finger tracking over the fly of my jeans.

For the second time in not that long, I can't form a coherent response. All that comes out is a strangled moan and a quick nod, but he doesn't need more than that. His fingers pop open the button and tug down the zipper, and then he eases them down, dragging my underwear with them.

I bite the inside of my lip, suddenly self-conscious, feeling naked and exposed, which, of course, I am. "You too," I manage, plucking at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

"Right," he agrees, and strips down without any hesitation. When he settles back beside me on the narrow bed, I feel like I can't draw a full breath because the world is suddenly spinning way too fast with so much of his skin touching so much of mine.

"Tell me what you want," he says, but I don't have any words and I want to make a joke about how one of his aptitudes must be being able to rob people of the ability to actually string words together, but, well... no words.

"You," I finally manage. "This. Here. Now."

"Good enough," he says, and I'm pretty sure he's trying not to laugh, but I don't really have time to think about that because then he's kissing me again, and it's kind of nice that I can't say anymore whether it's my third or fourth or fourteenth kiss because there's been so many in the last little while.

Ash's lips are warm against mine, softer than I would have expected as they brush against the skin of my throat as he makes his way down my body again. I slide my fingers into his hair, then down along his shoulder as he moves further and further down.

I am acutely aware of every place that his lips and hands touch me, and yet somehow it still comes as a surprise when the tip of his tongue draws a line from the base of my cock to the head, and then around it. It feels like a shot of electricity runs up my spine and more or less shorts out my brain for a second. "That's—you—Ash!" I gasp.

"Mmm?" he asks, his lips against my skin so that the vibration of it sends another shudder through me. His mouth is hot and wet, his tongue soft as it laps away the bead of fluid that forms at the tip before he takes me in deeper, and I see his cheeks hollow as he sucks.

Neither of us makes any attempt at actual words for a while, although I'm making plenty of noise that sounds too loud in my own ears so I finally clamp my hand over my mouth. The last thing I need is everyone in the suite overhearing and teasing me about it later. I can't keep quiet forever, though, because too soon (or at least it feels too soon) I'm on the edge, and I have to warn him. "Ash, stop, I'm gonna come."

For a second I think he's not going to stop, and I don't know if he didn't hear me so I reach down at tug at his wrist, where his hand rests on his hip. He looks up and smiles at me, finally letting my length slip from his mouth.

I pull on his wrist again and he moves up to kiss me, his lips red and a little swollen. His fingers wrap around my dick, slick now with his spit, and I don't spill the second he touches me, but it's close. It's like fireworks behind my eyelids as he gets me off. I had no idea it would be so much more intense with someone else doing it than when I do it myself.

He kisses me again when I manage to catch my breath. "How was that?" he asks.

"Perfect," I murmur, rubbing my cheek against his hair.

Ash grins. "Not just good?" I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs. "I can think of better things you could do with that, you know," he teases.

"So can I," I say. "And it'll be a heck of a lot better than just good."


End file.
